


Scar Tissue

by callmecaramleh



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecaramleh/pseuds/callmecaramleh
Summary: Zuko notices a strange scar on Sokka's chest.





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Druddigonite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druddigonite/gifts).



> Hello!! This work is HEAVILY inspired by my fanatic reading of the fic Sea Cranes by Druddigonite, which was the first hanahaki fic I ever read. Please read their fic after reading mine, only because theirs is so much better than mine so if you read mine second you will be incredibly disappointed. Anyway, get ready to read exactly the same fic as the past nine fics I've written, but this time with more flower petals. (They're all so close to the same that I literally thought about naming this one Scars && Skin.) Also, as usual, I posted this without rereading it for typos. I'm the worst. Sorry.

Zuko knew better than to ask about other people’s scars. Anyone who asked about his own received, at best, silence, and at worst, a fire ball to the chest. His glare was usually enough to keep people from asking, and with the war going on most people liked to just make assumptions about where it was from. Them trying to comfort him for what they considered to be “the atrocities of the Fire Nation” had always unnerved him. Even now, in the Western Air Temple, having abandoned any ties to his father or the throne, it was difficult to remind himself that pink scar wasn’t something he deserved.

So he didn’t ask Sokka about the thin line of scar that peaked out from the neck of Sokka’s shirt. It was hardly noticeable, but Zuko’s awkwardness had stopped him from making proper eye contact with people during his first few days at the Western Air Temple. He was quick to memorize the features of the group. Every mole scattered across the gang’s skin, the comparative thickness of everyone’s leg hair, whether everyone’s ear lobes were attached or dangling; it was all known to him. Sokka’s scar didn’t seem out of the ordinary—not like Zuko’s—until he had seen it properly.

Sokka had had his back turned to Zuko when they were changing into guard uniforms at the Boiling Rock. Zuko had only glanced over at him on accident when he noticed that the scar he had seen on Sokka’s chest had only been a peak at the whole thing. It extend, wrapping under Sokka’s arm and back up between his shoulder blades. It seemed even and well healed, but still visible against Sokka’s tanner skin. Zuko knew better than to ask, but he wanted to.

It was easy enough to keep the question off his tongue while they were in prison. There were plans to be made and he had to fight to survive. It was easy to only talk for the sake of survival. The trip back made things much more difficult.

Chit Sang, Suki, and Hakoda were all dozing while Zuko worked on navigating them back to the Air Temple. After years of searching for the Avatar Zuko was convinced he’d be able to find any of the air temples even on a cloudy night with no stars to guide him. Sokka was still a help though, primarily in keeping Zuko awake with his chatter.

“Do you like your room in the Air Temple?” Sokka asked after the subject of their favorite Earth Kingdom foods had died off.

“Huh?” Zuko replied.

“Well we were all going to have our own rooms for once, but it seemed like you were the only one who really ended up using yours,” Sokka answered, leaning over the side of the war balloon to get a better glimpse of the moon.

“Oh, uh, well no,” Zuko said, “I don’t really like staying up there.”

“The rooms aren’t big enough for a prince?” A grin pulled at the corners of Sokka’s mouth. Zuko tried not to focus too much on the way the moons light dusted over Sokka’s features, turning the tiniest smile into a work of art.

“No, it’s not that,” Zuko replied, turning away from Sokka to glare into the fiery heart of the balloon, “The Western Air Temple was one of the first places I went to look for the Avatar. When I got there there were bodies everywhere.”

Sokka turned to face him at that point, his eyebrows scrunching together, but he didn’t say anything. Zuko took that as a sign to continue.

“In the Fire Nation we believe that the light of fire is how spirits can travel. After death we burn the bodies so that the person’s spirit can travel safely to the next life. Seeing all of the skeletons... was unsettling.”

“We saw some at the Southern Air Temple... Aang had a bit of a meltdown. When I realized he was taking us to another Temple I was really worried that it would happen again.”

“I can understand why. My crew said cremating them would be a waste of time, but it felt like I could feel their lingering spirits,” Zuko explained, “I thought if we burned them then I would feel at ease. I figured even the nomads would appreciate me helping them into the next life after being trapped there for 100 years. Halfway through the second temple I realized that no matter how much light I created, their ghosts would still follow me.”

“So you still feel that way?” Sokka asked, resting his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. It was cool in contrast to the warmth of the fire that was holding them in flight.

“Yes. I don’t feel it constantly like I used to, but in that room... it’s difficult.”

“You can start sleeping outside with us,” Sokka said, “I’ll watch out for your ghosts if you watch out for mine.”

***

Meditation was meant to be for clearing ones mind. Zuko, even after all of his practice, was a failure at it. As he sat in Agni’s rays, cupping a flame in his palm, his mind was anything but restful. The more he sought out calm the more his mind wandered to Sokka. He couldn’t remember ever being so curious about a person before. Zuko’s mind mulled over what ghosts could be in Sokka’s life, and what kind of fight would have left him with such a strange scar. He wondered if Sokka had been tortured, body and arms hanging upside down while someone drew out that curve on his chest. It seemed the most plausible explanation for the strange shape, but Zuko couldn’t think of of a person that would have bothered to capture Sokka besides himself.

The plurality of Sokka’s ghosts also drove Zuko’s brain toward wonder. Had it been singular Zuko would have assumed that the reference was to his and Katara’s late mother, but as is there had to be more than that. Zuko couldn’t ask him. It would be rude, prying, and Zuko figures that Sokka didn’t even consider himself to be a friend. Zuko didn’t want to make Sokka upset by forcing him to dig up old memories.

Zuko coughed, the flame in his hands sputtering slightly as he did.

“Sokka?” he heard Katara say, her voice on edge. Zuko turned to see her, eyes still glazed with sleep but sitting upright.

“No, it’s just me,” he answered, “Get some more rest.”

Katara nodded wearily and laid back down. It was hardly a moment before her light snores rejoined the noises of the others.

Zuko had began sleeping much better once he moved to the open air with everyone else. The snoring was surprisingly helpful, reminding him of his Uncle and drowning out the howling winds that had been all too loud in the halls of the temple.

For the most part everyone seemed to enjoy sleeping in. It was a wonder to him that he had never been able to capture them with how much time they must have lost from sleeping in so late. That’s why he was surprised when he felt a hand resting on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes to see Sokka moving to sit next to him. His eyes look slightly red, like he had gotten smoke in them. Sokka tried to smile, but it seemed to fall short.

“Is something wrong?” Zuko asked, his tone hushed to stop himself from waking anyone else.

“No,” Sokka answered.

“It’s strange for you to be awake,” Zuko said.

“I was having a dream that I would rather not have.”

Zuko nodded, snuffing out the flame in his hand. He was very familiar with nightmares.

“In the Fire Nation we think bad dreams are lucky,” Zuko answered, “I’ll buy it from you.”

“It’s not a bad dream,” Sokka said, “At least I don’t think it is. It’s just... dark. And there’s a koi pond, and it’s small but seems to go on forever at the same time. Nothing bad happens and it’s not scary, but for some reason it makes me sad.”

“Do you think it’s a spiritual dream?”

“What would the spirits want with me?”

Zuko could think of plenty of reasons why the spirits would be interested. Even disregarding his status as the avatar’s practical babysitter, Sokka was, in Zuko’s opinion at least, one of the most phenomenal people in the world. There seemed to be no one more dedicated to bringing peace to the world. Even Aang and Katara sometimes let their own selfish desires get in the way of things sometimes, but Sokka seemed to constantly be putting the needs of others over his own. He might whine loudly about hunger and lack of sleep, but when it came to important things, like leaving his home behind, or grieving his mother, he was always the last to complain. Zuko could never keep his temper and own problems in check, and it was something he admired about Sokka. He was so cool under pressure.

Instead of saying any of that though, Zuko shrugged. “Maybe there’s no one to tell jokes in the spirit world.”

Sokka laughed and Zuko smiled. He had never been particularly good at making people laugh before—he hadn’t really tried—yet now he had discovered how much joy it brought him just to see Sokka smile.

“Well maybe they should get you instead,” Sokka said.

Zuko opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a cough. His lungs kept tightening, but the coughing didn’t stop. His throat felt like it was peeling away. Sokka pat his back a few times before finally getting up to get Zuko some water.

Before Sokka could return, however, Zuko felt something dislodge from his throat. He coughed once more and it fell into his palm, soft and beige but blotched with red. Blood.

Without thinking Zuko clenched his fist around the mysterious source of his coughing. Hearing Sokka’s footsteps heading back towards him, he ignited a small flame, wiping the ash on the under side of his pant leg.

“Better?” Sokka asked, handing Zuko the water. Zuko just nodded, accepting the waterskin and taking a large gulp from it. There was no need to worry Sokka about his cough or it’s source. He was busy trying to convince himself that he had probably just swallowed a leaf or something while they were flying on Appa.

***

He coughed up two more by the end of that evening. On further inspection he realized that it was flower petals that were making their way out of his throat. He kept trying to calm his mind—-reason away why there might be flower petals inside of him—but it wasn’t helping. Zuko was on edge. All he wanted was his Uncle’s sage advice and calming tea. Instead he got to try to teach the rambunctious Avatar firebending and dodge worried looks from Katara.

The need to keep them secret came naturally. There was no time to be concerned about flowers when the fate of the world was on their shoulders. He pretended that it was a passing thing, that it would be over and his body would go back to normal in no time. That’s what he was trying to convince himself as he sat in a room far away from where the others were sleeping, coughing up a slurry mixture of blood, petals, and bile.

“You ok?” came a gruff voice from the door way. Zuko turned, wiping blood from his chin to his sleeve. It was Chit Sang that had found him. Zuko couldn’t hide it from him. He was surrounded by petals—at least a few dozen of them. When he had coughed them up earlier they had stayed crumpled in his palm before he had burned them. Now, as they touched the light from the moon, they seemed to rebloom slightly. Zuko hadn’t had a moment where he could breathe well enough to destroy them.

He tried to swallow down his coughing to respond, but there was no use. Zuko couldn’t even keep his mouth shut for more than a moment, the cream colored petals demanding passage through his throat.

Chit Sang sad beside him, picking up one of the petals, idly turning it around in his fingers. “Hanahaki.”

“Wh—What?” Zuko managed to choke out, watching Chit Sang light the petal in his hand. The ash blew through breeze, escaping out the window. It felt strange to see someone else burning them. It was like a piece of him burning without him being able to feel it.

“It’s a disease,” Chit Sang explained, picking up another petal, “I had a friend who had it. They say you get it when you have a one-sided love. It goes away if the person loves you back.”

“That—“ Zuko coughed, “Doesn’t seem believable.”

“Neither does coughing up flower petals,” Chit Sang answered, “But it’s real. My friend had it for almost a year. Almost died of it too, but then got the thing surgically removed.”

“Surgery, see?” Zuko said, his cough subsiding to a mere tickle in his throat, “It’s medical, not... emotional.”

“No, it was weird. After the surgery he forgot about this girl he was in love with entirely. He claimed he had never seen her before in his life.”

“I... I don’t love anyone.”

“Well that’s not what the petals are saying,” Chit Sang said, “Think about when it started. Sweep the girl off her feet. Don’t let it kill you.”

With that, Chit Sang stood, leaving Zuko in his pool of petals.

It was several moments before he was able to collect himself enough to start picking up the petals, grabbing large clumps in his hand and burning them. By the time he was done he was exhausted. All the coughing had taken a toll on him, and even the most minute firebending had felt difficult.

He laid back on the hard floor of the room, afraid to go back to his sleeping bag around the others. His coughing might come back, and he didn’t want to wake anybody.

There was no point in telling anyone about his disease. If it really was as Chit Sang said, there was only one person that Zuko could imagine it being.

Mai. There was absolutely no doubt in Zuko’s mind that his coughing had begun just after the Boiling Rock, where Mai made it clear that she had no love for Zuko. She despised Zuko for his betrayal, and he couldn’t blame her. The only way that she would ever regain her love for him, he figured, would be by him helping to defeat the Firelord and having whoever took the throne free her from whatever prison Azula had put her in.

If it really was as Chit Sang said, he had year. The comet came much sooner than that. If they could stop the Firelord, he could at least talk to Mai and see if there was any possibility of her returning his feelings. If they couldn’t stop the Firelord than Zuko figured he would be dead anyway.

***

Zuko was glad to have at least learned one thing from his Uncle. After learning that the cough in his throat would not be going away, Zuko began gulping down as many cups of ginger honey tea as he could make in a day. While it made his throat feel significantly better, it couldn’t help the ever rising petals. Their passage was smoother, though no less constant.

Katara seemed particularly unnerved by it. Every time he would discreetly cough a petal into his palm, burning it before anyone could catch a glimpse of it, she would tense up. He explained away the cough as much as he could, claiming the winds through the canyon had given him a cold, but she remained worried.

This made things particularly difficult when the two of them went to find the man that had killed her mother. Tea was in limited quantity while they travelled on Appa, so the cough was much less restrained. It seemed as well that rather than each bout of coughing yielding one or two petals, they were coming out more frequently. Sometimes rather than burning them all he would just catch them in his hand and then discreetly send them over the side of Appa’s saddle. Katara’s rage seemed to make her slightly less observant, but by the time they were heading back to rejoin the group she was mostly back to her usual overbearing ways.

“Are you sure it’s just a cold?” she asked, glancing over at him after a particularly bad fit.

“Yes,” Zuko answered, “I, uh, get allergies when the seasons change too, so it’s a lot at once.”

“Right...” she said, “It’s just... Sokka had this really bad cough back at the North Pole. They ended up having to do surgery on him to remove what was constricting his lungs. I just... I guess I’m just paranoid.”

“It’s very kind of you to worry about me,” Zuko replied, “But a little cold is something I can deal with. You’re dealing with plenty right now as it is.”

“You’re one of us now, as much as I didn’t want to admit that. I’ll worry about you whether I want to or not.”

***

They landed on Ember Island late at night. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, bright light barely peaking out from the blanket of shadow. The majority of the group, once convinced that the house was safe, was searching out the best rooms. Sokka, however, lingered in the courtyard.

“...Do you want to go to the beach?” he asked Zuko.

“Uh, sure.”

He turned, motioning Sokka to follow him down the small path that lead to the Firelord’s private beach. Zuko pulled off his shoes when they reached the shore, carrying them in one hand. The sand was soft on his skin, unlike the usual coarse grains that he had encountered on his world travels. He had forgotten how nice home could be.

“I bet the ocean air will be good for that cough of yours,” Sokka said, stepping into the shallows of the water.

“Yeah,” said Zuko, wishing that were the case, “That’d be nice.”

Zuko bent down, rolling up the hem of his pants before stepping into the water as well. It was shockingly cold in comparison with the hot island air. Tiny waves lapped at his ankles, biting chills into them. Sokka was already knee deep, the hem of his pants dipping into the water. Without ceremony Sokka began pulling off his shirt, throwing it back to the dry shore before diving into the waves.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Zuko asked once Sokka had resurfaced. Sokka’s hair had started to slip from piece holding it in a bun, so he removed it and chucked that to shore as well.

“I’m from the South Pole, dumbass,” Sokka answered, grinning, “This is nothing.”

“You’re crazy,” Zuko replied.

“Come on, it’s fun!” Sokka took that moment to go underwater, his feet kicking out from the surface as he did a handstand. When he came out of the water his hair was going in all directions, sticking against his face. In one swoop Sokka dragged his hands through his hair, pushing it out of the way. “But it’d be funner if you joined me.”

“No way. Too cold.”

“What, afraid of the water? I’m an incredible swimmer. I’ll save you if you start to drown.”

“I know how to swim, dickhead.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sokka said, grinning as he paddle further out from Zuko.

Zuko sighed, starting to take off his shirt and dropping it onto the dry sand. He gave into Sokka far too easily. Zuko supposed It was the boy’s leadership skills that made him so charming and convincing.

He shivered as he stepped further into the water, koala-goose bumps appearing on his arms. Normally he would use his fire bending to warm himself up, but lately firebending was taking more energy than usual, and maintaining his body heat over a long period of time would be too difficult.

“I bet I could beat you too that little island over there,” Sokka said.

“You’re on.”

Sokka was an incredible swimmer, and definitely better than Zuko, but Sokka had mad a mistake. Over the weeks of Zuko being a part of the gang the two of them had become regular sparring partners, and while Sokka was hardly well trained, his plucky and creative attitude often gave him the upper hand. Remembering a particularly useful move Sokka had done in their last match, Zuko dove under the water and grabbed Sokka’s ankle, tugging him under the surface. Zuko heard Sokka yelp slightly before he was fully under the water, flailing to kick Zuko off of him.

When Zuko finally relinquished his grip he began surging towards the island, hoping to make a sustainable lead before Sokka could get his bearings. Before he knew it, however, Sokka was shoving him down by his shoulders, dunking him under the waves.

By the time they actually made it to the island, Zuko was exhausted, simultaneously panting and laughing as he laid down in the sand. Sokka sat down next to him, knees pulled up against his chest as he tried to reclaim his breath. His cheeks were slightly red from exertion, and the moonlight made drops of water glisten off his skin. Zuko couldn’t stop his eyes from gazing down Sokka’s back, following falling drops of salt water as they moved from dark hair, to neck, past a noticeable tan line, between the shoulders, and right to the edge of light pink scar. Before Zuko could think the better of it his finger reached up, tracing the curve of smoothed skin, leaving a tiny trail of grains of sand in his wake.

Sokka swatted his hand away lightly, but when he turned to face Zuko he was still smiling. “You act like you’ve never seen a scar before,” he said.

“Sorry...” Zuko said, hoping the darkness covered his blush.

Sokka shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s there. It’s a part of me. And it’s proof that someone else was a part of me too.”

“What do you mean?”

“...It’s kind of a weird thing,” Sokka said, laying back in the sand. He turned on his side, facing Zuko. “I contracted this weird disease back in the North Pole. This is going to sound a bit crazy, but my lungs were being choked out by this plant that made me cough up flower petals. They say you get the disease when you love someone that doesn’t return your feelings.”

“I can’t imagine someone not returning feelings for you,” Zuko said, unable to stop looking at that curved line of scar tissue.

“Neither can I. Literally. They say the disease goes away if the person starts loving you back, but apparently it didn’t look like that was going to happen for me. Instead the healers in the North decided it was best to surgically remove it. And it’s great. I’m alive. But... I can’t remember the person at all. I miss them, and I don’t know them. I remember how it felt to be coughing up petals for hours every night, and I remember the feeling of sore throats, and I remember scrubbing blood out of my clothes when it would sometimes come out with the petals, but I don’t get to remember her. Aang and Katara don’t have anything to tell me about it either. Katara, I think, is afraid that memories might bring the disease back, but Aang said that neither of them knew her that well either. It just... it hurts.”

Zuko had never been good with words, and this moment was no different. He couldn’t do anything other than stare. It was a bit jarring to hear that Sokka had suffered the same way he was. Zuko didn’t want to imagine Sokka having to go through that pain.

“That’s rough buddy,” Zuko finally said, “Do you... do you think you made the right choice?”

Sokka sighed, flopping back onto his back, his hands resting under his head. Zuko followed Sokka’s eyes upwards to stare at the moon and stars. There were clouds beginning to drift by, creating shadows in the sky.

“Yes,” Sokka answered, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.”

Zuko knew then that no matter how much Sokka might understand what he was going through, and no matter how much help the gang might be able to give him, he couldn’t tell them that he had hanahaki. He had to see it through and have the chance to have Mai love him back. There was no way that he could risk everyone advising him to forget her forever just so that he could stop coughing.

Eventually the two of them swam back to the beach. Zuko trailed behind, which was a relief when his lungs decided to throw him into a coughing fit when he was almost back to the beach. Sokka had about turned back to help him, but Zuko waved him away even as he coughed into his palm. Sokka didn’t approach, but he kept turning back to make sure Zuko wasn’t drowning. If he noticed the fresh, full moonlilies blooming on the water’s surface, he didn’t say anything.

***

The disease was certainly progressing. Zuko knew it was starting to get bad when he woke up a good hour past sunrise one day, coughing up six full flowers. He hard My had the energy to burn them anymore, instead just stuffing them under his pillows. Firebending practice was a nightmare. It was exhausting, his whole body sore from violent coughing fits. The tea still helped somewhat, but with the amount he was drinking he had to pee constantly. All he wanted was to take down the Firelord so he could return to Mai, and hopefully stop choking on his own feelings.

When it finally came time for battle though, Zuko was feeling all but relieved. The Avatar was missing, the comet was about to arrive, and his firebending was not up to its usual standard. His only solace was that his Uncle’s tea was far more helpful than the stuff he had been brewing before. Zuko hoped that with its help and some decent rest he’d be able to stand up to Azula the next day.

“Ok, don’t tell anyone else, but I feel so nauseous,” Sokka said, sitting down beside Zuko, “Please tell me other great warriors also feel this nervous before a battle.”

“Yeah, me too,” Zuko said, smiling. Around anyone else Zuko might pretend to be brave, but with Sokka there was no point in it. They both knew the stakes, and the fear, and that the best cure for nerves was to voice them. It relieved Zuko to be able to be honest with someone.

“Well you’re sick, so you have an excuse,” Sokka replied, taking Zuko’s tea from his hands and stealing a sip.

“Hey!” Zuko said, “I could be contagious.”

“If you were contagious one of us would have caught it a long time ago. Besides, we both know that what you have doesn’t work like that?”

“What?” Zuko asked, taking his tea back to try to cover his panic.

“You can’t catch allergies, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Zuko went to take another sip of his tea, but sputtered as his cough began. He turned away from Sokka, blushing pink as he coughed into his hand. Sokka reached over, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Zuko felt a flower fall from his scratchy throat into his hand, and then another, and then another. By the time he had finished there were six moonlilies crushed into his fist. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before moving his clenched hand to his sides, hopefully to be unnoticed until he could dispose of the flowers.

“I don’t know if you should fight in this state,” Sokka voiced after a moment’s pause, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine Sokka. I’ll have the comet giving me power, same as all the other fire benders,” Zuko said, trying to convince himself as much as Sokka.

“Ok, ok, but just know that there’s no way I’m letting you do anything alone.”

***

Zuko could never have imagined the journey his destiny had taken him on. When he set out all those years ago, banished, feeling the pain of burns and heartbreak, he would never have guessed that one day he would be returning home with a water bender on the day of Sozin’s comet. Having to fight Azula might not have seemed completely far fetched, but the circumstances would not have been within the realm of possibility. He never would have guessed that there would be someone he loved so much that he would jump in front of them, taking a full blast of lightning to the chest, just so they could live.

For years, Zuko had been alone. He hadn’t even been able to understand how much his Uncle had cared about him. After his mother had left him, the doors to his heart had been sealed. No one could touch him. No one could matter. No one could love him, and he could feel no love. Even as he tried to make those connections with others--with Song or Lee or Jet or Jin--he always failed. When he joined the gang though, after a little while at least, they had started to love him, and he supposed that was how he learned to love them in return.

The lightning didn’t feel how he imagined it would. There was no exhilaration in his poor attempt to redirect it through his own body. There was only force, crushing his entire chest. The lightning hadn’t even exited his body before the pressure sent him into a coughing fit. Ashen lilies were leaving his body at an alarming rate, but he was no longer cognizant enough to care. His eyes could barely stay open, his body convulsing as coughs and electricity swam through him. All he wanted was for the pain to stop. His ears were ringing, but he could still hear Katara shouting his name. He tried to sit up, to find her, to pull himself up to protect her, but the coughing continued, and all he could see were moonlilies, and then nothing.

***

It was dark when he finally opened his eyes again. He was no longer on the hard courtyard floor, but rather on a plush mattress, surrounded by an open red canopy. In only the candlelight, he couldn’t make out much more than a collection of flowers strewn over the blanket that rested on top of him. He moved to push it off, feeling the weight of it to forcefully, but he could hardly move his arms.

There was no one in his room, save for Momo, who promptly bounced over and onto the bed, nuzzling under Zuko’s chin. He felt too warm, but Zuko couldn’t bring himself to ask Momo to leave his side.

“We have to operate, Sokka,” Zuko heard Katara say, her voice coming from just outside of the room, “His body can’t heal from the lightning while there’s flowers growing inside him. He’ll die.”

“No way,” Sokka answered, “I’m not letting him lose anybody.”

“If he has the disease then he already lost them,” Katara answered, her voice stern.

“We don’t know that.”

“Well while you’re busy worrying about him losing his memory, I have to save him from losing himself. Or would you rather he _die_?”

His cough chose that moment to resurface, constricting his airwaves as he bent into the fetal position. A mixture of full flowers and singular petals fell from his lips, dotting white across the red blanket. It was all too much. The pain in his chest, in his throat, the pressure so great that he could feel tears forming in his eyes. He didn’t even notice the sound of the door opening, or the feeling of someone sitting on the bed beside him. It wasn’t until Sokka was resting a soothing hand on Zuko’s shoulder that he even knew he was in the room.

“Zuko,” he heard Sokka say, though he figured it wasn’t the first time he had said it since coming into Zuko’s room. It was hard to hear over the sound of his coughing. “You’re going to be all right.”

“Blanket,” Zuko said, his voice coming out weak, “Too heavy.”

Sokka gently pulled the blanket off of Zuko. It was a relief not to have something, even something so light as a blanket, pushing down on him.

“Better?”

Zuko nodded.

“I’m going to help you sit up so that you can drink some water. Does that sound ok?” Sokka asked.

He nodded again, and Sokka’s arms looped around him, pulling him upwards to rest against thick red pillows. Zuko hoped that the darkness made him look slightly less pitiful, unable to do anything on his own. Katara didn’t even bother with a cup, instead just bending water directly towards Zuko’s mouth. It tasted better than any water he had ever had before.

“The Firelord?” Zuko finally managed to ask, his voice still hoarse no matter how much water he drank.

“Aang took his bending away,” Sokka replied, “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“You seem--” Zuko started, interrupted by a cough, “You seem to hurt people just fine without bending.”

Sokka chuckled. “Well your dad just isn’t as good of a warrior as me.”

“No,” Zuko replied, “I suppose not.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and Zuko felt his eyes start to drift shut before Katara finally cut in.

“Zuko, you need surgery.”

“Katara--” Sokka began, but Zuko interjected.

“Mai should be in the capital city prison,” he said, “I want to see her…”

“Mai…” Sokka repeated, “Right… I’ll go get her.”

“Thank you.”

***

Zuko was lulling in and out of sleep, woken up every few hours by bouquets of moonlilies escaping his lips. For the most part, he dreamed of bright flashing lights and dark rooms closing in on him. There was one dream, however, that stood out amongst the nightmares.

He was running through the halls of their house on Ember Island. He was chasing Azula, but instead of cackling, she was giggling. She was just a little girl. They ran through the halls and out onto the courtyard, dodging around pillars until they reached the sandy beach. It had been daytime when the dream began, but during their chase sunset had begun, until night took over. The reflection of the moon danced across the waves. As soon as Zuko saw it, he stopped, stunned by the beauty of light on the ocean. He reached his hand up towards the moon before he once again heard Azula’s giggle, barely able to remember she was there before she shoved him into the water.

As soon as he was beneath the waves, he was drowning. He tried to climb to the surface, but it never came. Panic started rising in his throat, until he was joined by twin koi fish. One was white, like the moons light that still reached him even under the water, while the other was black, almost dark blue as it swam around him. When they joined him, dancing around him, he felt at ease. They circled him, until Zuko couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began.

That dream wasn’t one that he woke up from with coughing. Instead he woke up to Aang dabbing a wet cloth across his forehead.

“Thank you…”

“It’s just good to see you awake,” Aang said, smiling.

***

He couldn’t tell long it had been before Sokka was shaking him gently, jolting him out of dreams of darkness. Sokka wasn’t quite looking at him, instead following the path of moonlilies cascading down his pillows.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

“Yes,” Zuko said, coughing lightly.

“It’s lucky, right?” Sokka said, “I’ll trade you a cup of water for it.”

“Deal,” Zuko said, managing a smile as Sokka brought a ceramic cup to his lips. He didn’t stop drinking until all the water was drained from it.

After sitting the cup back down on the bedside table, Sokka brushed the flowers off of the bed, settling down to lay next to Zuko. He still hadn’t made eye contact with him.

“I… I have bad news,” Sokka finally said, “Mai isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, you know I understand. Its… its not fun. But I’ll be here for you Zuko. I want you to live.”

“Did… did she say why?” Zuko asked, “Did you tell her about the flowers?”

“She seemed convinced they weren’t for her, but I reckon you know your own feelings.”

“Yes,” Zuko replied, “I must…”

“And think of it this way,” Sokka said, finally able to look at Zuko properly, “We could have matching scars. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

Zuko laughed until it turned into a cough, petals falling into the small space between the two of them.

“You’re going to be better soon,” Sokka said, trying to smile, “I can go get Katara… she thinks we’ve waited too long already.”

“She’ll be doing the surgery?” Zuko asked.

“With help from the physicians here. The ones that we don’t suspect will try to assassinate you.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” Zuko said with a roll of his eyes. Still, he knew he could trust Katara. There didn’t seem to be a choice anymore. The pain would go away, eventually. Loss might haunt him, but it wouldn’t consume him--not with Sokka and the rest of his friends by his side at least. It scared to him to think of seeing Mai again, and not knowing her, but if he had to pick between never remembering her and never seeing the gang again, he’d pick living every time.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be over before you know it, and then you’ll only feel the excruciating pain of having just been electrocuted. No more flowers!”

“No more flowers,” Zuko repeated as Sokka climbed out of the bed. He started for the door, but at the last moment he turned around, rejoining Zuko at his side.

“And you don’t have to worry. I’ll be with you through it all.”

With that, Sokka leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Zuko’s forehead. Zuko didn’t think anything of it at first. It was a gesture that he could imagine returning easily. He’d do anything to show Sokka how much he cared for him, and he assumed that was Sokka meant by the chaste kiss. It wasn’t, on Sokka’s part, meant to be a confession.

Still, within moments of lips touching skin, Zuko felt his body crumpling. He leaned over the side of bed, a mixture of petals, blood, and bile all hitting the floor. Zuko couldn’t breath, heaving what felt like the entire contents of his body out of his mouth. He was vaguely aware of Sokka above him, holding his hair back as he stuttered through swears.

“It’s… shit… it’s ok Zuko… Uh… This seems bad. Shit.”

***

When Zuko woke up again, he was relieved that he was able to think of Mai. They hadn’t done the surgery when he was passed out. He hadn’t lost anything yet.

Somehow he felt lighter, even managing to sit up on his own. He glanced around the room, seeing only Momo napping on the end of the bed and Sokka sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, his feet pulled up to his chest. From where Zuko sat it almost looked like Sokka was blushing.

“He’s up!” Sokka shouted once he noticed Zuko moving. A few moments after he had spoke, Katara came into the room, Aang trailing at her feet carrying a tray of food and tea.

“The color seems to have returned to your face already,” Katara said, “Now, you’re still recovering from the lightning, so no solid foods for a while, and you’ll still have to stay in bed for a little longer. When you do start getting out of bed more, you’ll have to be accompanied by one of us at all times, is that clear?”

“Huh?” came Zuko’s reply. He was confused, and then panicked. What if they had done the surgery? He recalled the names of everyone he had met in the past years, trying to find a gap in his memory. His chest was bandaged still from the lightning, so he couldn’t look for proof in the form of a scar.

“Your hanahaki was healed,” Katara said.

Before she could explain, Aang piped in. “Sokka cured you!”

“...What?” Zuko said, his gaze turning back to Sokka, who only seemed to bury his face further into his knees.

“Hanahaki is cured when your love returns your feelings,” Katara said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I…” Zuko started, but words escaped him.

“We’ll leave you you two alone,” Katara finally offered, “But you need to eat that porridge.”

Zuko nodded, which seemed convincing enough for Katara. She turned, dragging Aang with her as she left. Zuko’s eyes felt stuck to Sokka, who was decidedly not returning his stare.

“Eat your food,” Sokka finally mumbled as he got up from the chair. He didn’t look at him, but he came to sit beside Zuko anyway, letting their shoulders brush against each other.

Zuko ducked his head, taking a bite of the porridge. It was a little hot, burning his tongue yet soothing his throat. It was amazing how clear it had become so quickly.

“I can’t believe it was me the whole time,” Sokka muttered, “You’re so stupid.”

“Well I thought I had standards,” Zuko teased, “But I guess the heart wants what the heart wants.”

Sokka rolled his eyes, nudging Zuko softly. Honestly, Zuko wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized his feelings for Sokka. Being with him felt like the most natural thing in the world. Back when everything had started at the Boiling Rock, he remembered feeling like he was finally a part of something. The gates to his heart had opened then, letting in his first love so forcefully that it had formed flowers in his chest.

“Hey Sokka,” Zuko said, turning towards Sokka.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

With that, Zuko pressed forward, dusting a kiss over Sokka’s lips. It felt nice to be able to be with him without losing his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, don't forget to read Sea Cranes, one of the best fics ever written. It is a treasure that I keep close to my heart.


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